Storm - C/Z, R
.
A late fic for mews1945's birthday!
I so wanted to post a first-time for your birthday, dear Mewsie, but the boys are still too skittish. This is what they gave me instead. I hope you enjoy it!
Storm
by Serai
Casey stands at his bedroom window, drenched and shivering. He watches the sky falling, torrential sheets of rain visible only as sparkling streams flashing in the air around the streetlamps’ glow, and barely seen curtains obscuring the horizon in the darkness. He looks for the moonlight but can’t see it. Not yet.
He knows he should get out of his wet clothes. He’s soaked down to his skin, little rivulets running over his back and thighs. He’s probably ruining the carpet, but he doesn’t care. He can barely think about that, his mind still holding the afterimage of red lights receding down the street, the gas-choked roar echoing in his ears as the sudden storm that had chased them here flooded him before he finally turned to escape the downpour. The dark house felt lonely and cold, and didn’t welcome him as he flicked lights on and climbed the stairs to his room. It doesn’t welcome him now as he stands caught, hypnotized by the rain and the echoes in his ears. He doesn’t think it’ll ever welcome him again. If it ever has.
The phone rings. Its chittering shriek breaks the spell, and Casey reaches out in the darkness and picks it up. There’s silence on the line as he shivers, unable to get his chattering teeth to relax enough to let him speak. After a long moment, he hears Zeke’s voice.
“You can’t stand there soaking wet all night, man,” comes the drawl, low and lazy. Casey closes his eyes, feeling wide, warm hands running over his abdomen, pulling him back to lean into his - lover? is that what he is? do I have a lover now? - arms wrapping him like the bars of a cage, imprisoning and protecting him at once. A flash in the window and the roar of thunder shakes the house. The soft sound of a chuckle, and again the voice, “That was close.” Fingertips ghost over Casey’s thigh, and the echo of that hand, its tight grip, makes him want to cry out again, unlock his throat and just let it all out, but the cold won’t let him go. He shakes harder, unable to stop. Zeke hears it through the phone at last, and his voice hardens. “Casey. Casey.”
Is that me? Casey? Is that my name? He manages to force out a “yes”.
“You’re getting in the shower. Right now.” Casey opens his eyes then, and looks over at the door to his bathroom, three steps, three miles away. He wonders if he’s paralyzed. His abdominals are fluttering painfully, the muscles along his spine feel like they’re about to cramp. He tries to focus on the sound of Zeke’s voice. "Tell me you're walking over there."
Am I walking over there? I guess I am. His feet move on their own, fighting the urge to remain locked, sliding over the rug towards the bathroom. "Yeah," he whispers, as he turns on the light.
"Put the phone down. Turn the water on as hot as you can take it. Then come back and listen to me." Casey's shaking hands do as they're told, then, "This is what you're going to do for me. Are you listening?" Yes yes god, I'm listening, Zeke, tell me what you want from me. Tell me what you want. "You're going to strip down to your skin. Everything, Casey." Zeke's voice gets softer. "You hear me? All of it." Casey moans softly as the steam rises in the room. "Then you're going to get in that water. Let it run over you, every inch." The voice is a deep murmur, running over his skin, over his lips, over his neck. "You're going to stay in there until every cell in your body is hot. And you're going to think about me, Casey. You're going to think about me under the water with you, in the heat. You're going to think about me getting on my knees for you. You're going to think about me..." and he goes on, whispering in Casey's ear while the steam floods the room, warming his skin and slowly chasing the chills away, until he's flushed with heat both inside and out. "...Can you do that for me, Casey?"
Oh Jesus, it's all I want to do. "Yes," he whispers.
"Because I'm not going to spend the winter hacking up a lung for you, man. I've got other plans," and the way he says that fills Casey with a painful mix of anticipation, fear, and just plain horniness. His breath speeds up and he bites his lip, listening. "You want to know what they are, don't you? Then stay healthy. Keep your strength up, because..." and here a pause, and Casey hears something, a sibilant sound - the sliding of a zipper. Zeke sighs, "...you're going to need it." Casey's skin flames as he hears what comes next. He leans back against the bathroom counter, and makes a strangled sound that joins the noises his - yes, god yes - lover is making. When Zeke's breath finally calms down, Casey whimpers.
"I want you again, so much," he breathes. "I can't stop wanting you." A low laugh is the response, then a sigh.
"I know, buddy. I know." Another sound of movement; Zeke is rolling over. "I'm there. Get in the shower and feel it. Take care of yourself," this last a rough, invasive whisper. Casey licks his lips and slides his hand down into his jeans. "Do it for me. I'm waiting." Zeke hangs up then, a gentle click that leaves Casey hanging, suspended. He sets the phone down. Then, breathing in the hot, damp air, he puts his fingers to his shirt buttons, and begins.
Chapter 15 of High Contrast
Chapter 16
A late fic for mews1945's birthday!
I so wanted to post a first-time for your birthday, dear Mewsie, but the boys are still too skittish. This is what they gave me instead. I hope you enjoy it!
Storm
by Serai
Casey stands at his bedroom window, drenched and shivering. He watches the sky falling, torrential sheets of rain visible only as sparkling streams flashing in the air around the streetlamps’ glow, and barely seen curtains obscuring the horizon in the darkness. He looks for the moonlight but can’t see it. Not yet.
He knows he should get out of his wet clothes. He’s soaked down to his skin, little rivulets running over his back and thighs. He’s probably ruining the carpet, but he doesn’t care. He can barely think about that, his mind still holding the afterimage of red lights receding down the street, the gas-choked roar echoing in his ears as the sudden storm that had chased them here flooded him before he finally turned to escape the downpour. The dark house felt lonely and cold, and didn’t welcome him as he flicked lights on and climbed the stairs to his room. It doesn’t welcome him now as he stands caught, hypnotized by the rain and the echoes in his ears. He doesn’t think it’ll ever welcome him again. If it ever has.
The phone rings. Its chittering shriek breaks the spell, and Casey reaches out in the darkness and picks it up. There’s silence on the line as he shivers, unable to get his chattering teeth to relax enough to let him speak. After a long moment, he hears Zeke’s voice.
“You can’t stand there soaking wet all night, man,” comes the drawl, low and lazy. Casey closes his eyes, feeling wide, warm hands running over his abdomen, pulling him back to lean into his - lover? is that what he is? do I have a lover now? - arms wrapping him like the bars of a cage, imprisoning and protecting him at once. A flash in the window and the roar of thunder shakes the house. The soft sound of a chuckle, and again the voice, “That was close.” Fingertips ghost over Casey’s thigh, and the echo of that hand, its tight grip, makes him want to cry out again, unlock his throat and just let it all out, but the cold won’t let him go. He shakes harder, unable to stop. Zeke hears it through the phone at last, and his voice hardens. “Casey. Casey.”
Is that me? Casey? Is that my name? He manages to force out a “yes”.
“You’re getting in the shower. Right now.” Casey opens his eyes then, and looks over at the door to his bathroom, three steps, three miles away. He wonders if he’s paralyzed. His abdominals are fluttering painfully, the muscles along his spine feel like they’re about to cramp. He tries to focus on the sound of Zeke’s voice. "Tell me you're walking over there."
Am I walking over there? I guess I am. His feet move on their own, fighting the urge to remain locked, sliding over the rug towards the bathroom. "Yeah," he whispers, as he turns on the light.
"Put the phone down. Turn the water on as hot as you can take it. Then come back and listen to me." Casey's shaking hands do as they're told, then, "This is what you're going to do for me. Are you listening?" Yes yes god, I'm listening, Zeke, tell me what you want from me. Tell me what you want. "You're going to strip down to your skin. Everything, Casey." Zeke's voice gets softer. "You hear me? All of it." Casey moans softly as the steam rises in the room. "Then you're going to get in that water. Let it run over you, every inch." The voice is a deep murmur, running over his skin, over his lips, over his neck. "You're going to stay in there until every cell in your body is hot. And you're going to think about me, Casey. You're going to think about me under the water with you, in the heat. You're going to think about me getting on my knees for you. You're going to think about me..." and he goes on, whispering in Casey's ear while the steam floods the room, warming his skin and slowly chasing the chills away, until he's flushed with heat both inside and out. "...Can you do that for me, Casey?"
Oh Jesus, it's all I want to do. "Yes," he whispers.
"Because I'm not going to spend the winter hacking up a lung for you, man. I've got other plans," and the way he says that fills Casey with a painful mix of anticipation, fear, and just plain horniness. His breath speeds up and he bites his lip, listening. "You want to know what they are, don't you? Then stay healthy. Keep your strength up, because..." and here a pause, and Casey hears something, a sibilant sound - the sliding of a zipper. Zeke sighs, "...you're going to need it." Casey's skin flames as he hears what comes next. He leans back against the bathroom counter, and makes a strangled sound that joins the noises his - yes, god yes - lover is making. When Zeke's breath finally calms down, Casey whimpers.
"I want you again, so much," he breathes. "I can't stop wanting you." A low laugh is the response, then a sigh.
"I know, buddy. I know." Another sound of movement; Zeke is rolling over. "I'm there. Get in the shower and feel it. Take care of yourself," this last a rough, invasive whisper. Casey licks his lips and slides his hand down into his jeans. "Do it for me. I'm waiting." Zeke hangs up then, a gentle click that leaves Casey hanging, suspended. He sets the phone down. Then, breathing in the hot, damp air, he puts his fingers to his shirt buttons, and begins.
Chapter 15 of High Contrast
Chapter 16